District 13
by R.C. Skene
Summary: Peeta and Cato were two boys who competed in the Hunger Games together, but are not necassarily on the greatest of terms. When they realize that they are both now apart of something much bigger, can these new found friends get the job done or will the past just repeat itself? Based off of 21 jumpstreet. Rated M for coarse language.
1. Sweaty Palms and Heavy Qualms

**Hello, welcome, and thank you for clicking on my story (if it was a mistake of the mouse then why not just stay for a while…rest your hand). As you've probably already guessed this story is going to be based off of 21 Jump Street but in the Hunger Games fandom…obviously. Anyways, nobody reads anything in bold anyway so I guess I'm just blabbering to no one… only adding on my number of words to make myself feel better… **

**DISCLAIMER****  
I do not own the Hunger Games or any characters associated with the books/movie or anything associated with 21 Jump Street. **

DISTRICT 13  
Sweaty Palms and Heavy Qualms

10…

9…

8…

7…

My heart's racing.

6…

My palms are sweating.

5…

I'm not ready for this.

4…

I wonder how I'll die.

3…

Wait…don't talk like that. Maybe I'll win!

2…

Yeah! I have a shot don't I?

1…

Oh fuck me.

Okay, step one…locate bag. Check!  
Step two…retrieve bag. Hell yeah!  
Step three…run away. Awesome!  
Step four…Holy Shit! Avoid dagger aiming for my skull!  
Step five…congratulate yourself for being one kickass tribute!

Run. Run. Run. Somersault (you know…sponsors). Run. Run. Run. Dive into bush!

…and run for god knows how long!

(line break)

So that's how my day began, running for my life in the 70th Annual Hunger Games. Lucky me…

I remember when my life was simpler. When days would start with my mom yelling at me to frost some cakes then smacking me in the head because I piped the flower petals a ¼" too thick.

I miss those times.

So when did my life turn into one big publicized event of my fight to survive against 23 other kids as a means to entertain the Capitol citizens, you may ask?

Well it all started at the reaping…

(line break)

"_Peeta! Peeta get up and frost these damn cakes you lazy, good for nothi-"_

"_I'm up! I'm up!" Ugh. What a great way to start the most dreaded day of the whole year. Yes folks, today is the reaping for the 70__th__ Annual Hunger Games! Oh, did you detect sarcasm just there? Hmm, that's odd… you think I would enjoy seeing myself, if not, someone I know selected to die in a public event. Weird. _

_I slowly made my way downstairs. This day isn't going to stop for me, regardless of the countless wishes I've made to the stars or some shit like that… I'm not really sure how wishes work, I thought I heard someone say something along those lines…never mind. _

_Anyway… cakes. That is my primary focus at the moment. Ice, smooth, pipe, tint, admire, repeat. I know it might sound kind of sissy, but I love frosting cakes. I just get lost in the patterns that the icing can make. It always amazes me that I can create something so beautiful in a world that is seriously lacking it. And I don't mean to toot my own horn or anything but my flowers were looking particularly-_

"_Peeta! What the hell is wrong with you! These flowers are hideous…the petals are a ¼" too thick! Who is going to buy a cake with a ¼" thick flower petals?"_

_-good today. Well then…_

"_Oh I don't know mom? Maybe hungry District 12 residents whose starvation will be cured by the extra icing I'll be feeding them?"_

_Smack!_

_Maybe I pushed that one a little too far?_

"_Are you trying to be smart with me? You ungrateful rat! Don't you realize that by using extra icing we are wasting money, and if we don't have money then we will starve! How could you be so selfish?"_

"_Oh, I'm sorry mom. I'll stop helping other people who need it and focus only on helping my family so I can be selfless like you."_

_Smack!_

_Ouch! Two before noon, that is never a good sign. _

"_Now fix those cakes and get ready for the reaping… I won't have you embarrassing me by going out like… that." and she finished by gesturing to my entire body. _

_Thanks for boosting my ever decreasing self-esteem mom!_

"_Yes ma'am."_

_And you thought that flower petal line was just a witty comment made to make my life seem worse than it was…how foolish of you. _

_So after fixing my _horrid _mistake and equally horrid appearance I was ready for the Reaping, and by ready I mean I want to hurl in the corner. _

_Reluctantly I made my way to the town square, seeing all the other nervous faces of the kids whose names were in those glass bowls just outside of the justice building. I swallowed the fast rising bile in my throat and made my way to the check-in. Don't want anyone missing out on such an important occasion, do we?_

_I stood in line with the other 13 year old boys, wondering if one of them, one of my classmates, would be picked this year. Probably not though, we're still too young to have too many death slips. _

_Before I could get caught up in my depressing thoughts the District 12 escort, Effie Trinket, made her way up on the stage in a dazzling display of feathers and glitter. To be honest, it kind of reminded me of an arts and crafts project I made when I was five. Well at least she toned it down from last year… oh how I wish I was being sarcastic._

_She started off with the typical…_

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to the Reaping for the 70__th _Annual _Hunger Games!"_

_Now cue the drunken Victor…_

"_Oh Effie, what are you doing here? Why are there so many people? …Oh right! The Games…hope none of you die too badly…"_

_Which was followed by a brief video about…_

"_The tragic history of our great nation of Panem through the Dark Days and into prosperity…"_

_Then half an hour later President Snow would give us a few words explaining how…_

"_The Hunger Games is a gift given to all the Districts of Panem as a way to ensure that the Dark Days will never again be relieved."_

_And Effie concluded this lovely tradition with a sincere…_

"_and may the odds be ever in your favour!"_

_For some strange reason, I wasn't feeling like the odds were on my side today._

_She made her way over to the girls bowl and announced, "Ladies first!" and let the lives of innocent children flow through her hands until she found one worth opening. _

"_Mallory Mortan!"_

_Hesitantly, a 14 year old girl made her way to the stage trying hard to wipe away the tears that managed to escape. I guess she wasn't quick enough in her pursuit because Effie started ushering her along saying, "It's alright dear, no need to cry."_

_Which of course caused an even steadier stream of tears to flow from Mallory's eyes. Leave it to Effie to say just about the worst possible thing without even realizing it. Well, now that I think about it anything you say would be the worst thing in the world considering this girl's life just became a whole lot of fucked up. _

"_And now for the boys!"_

_Yipee!_

_What if someone I know is chosen? Or If I'm chosen? Or my brother! Oh my god I totally forgot about Rye…he could be picked…he could die…unless I volunteer…no that's crazy…District 12 doesn't have volunteers…well I could be the first…wait, what am I saying…he wouldn't even volunteer for me…would he? No Peeta, snap out of it! Who says either of you will get chosen? Yeah neither of us will be picked…I mean, what are the odds of that happening?_

"_um, dude.."_

_I snapped out of my inner rant as the guy next to me patted my shoulder._

"_hmm…what?"_

"_It's uh…you."_

"_Huh?"_

"_You, uh…were, you know…" he stuttered as he pointed towards the eccentric escort whose eyes were locked on mine. _

_I looked around and noticed that _everybody's _eyes were locked on me. _

"_Come on dear, don't be shy."_

_I looked back at the lady on the stage in front of me with confusion on my face that soon turned to a look of understanding._

"_Oh shit."_

(line break)

So there you have it. My tragic story explaining why I am squatting in a hollowed out tree trunk preparing to sleep after a bloodbath in which nine people were brutally murdered.

Well that's it for Day One folks but stay tuned for more bloodshed, screams, and agony coming soon to a television near you! That's right! In just a few short hours you will see me continue to fight for my life in even more cruel and twisted ways in the 70th Annual Hunger Games!

(line break)

Day Two

Oh hey! Glad to see you stuck around to see more of this fabulous show!

As of now I'm just walking around aimlessly, trying to find a source of water but coming up with nothing. Maybe dehydration wouldn't be a bad way to go... I mean just think about it. I wouldn't have to deal with the gross bloody type of death; I could just relax, close my eyes and sleep forever. Almost sounds tempting.

Wow…this heat must really be getting to me. I am starting to go _crazy_.

"AAAUUGGH!"

"HOLY SHIT!"

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. OH MY GOD!

Okay Peeta…calm down. You got this. Just handle this situation delicately.

"You're going DOWN Twelve! Hahahaha…"

Okay, scratch that. There is no delicate way to handle some crazy tribute coming at you with a spear. This is not looking good for me.

But on the bright side at least _I'm _not the crazy one.

"Okay, just put the spear down and we can handle this logically…"

"Logically? You really are stupid Twelve! But since you're a nice guy I guess I'll give you a brief summary on how this is going to go down. How does that sound? Hmm?"

"Uhh…pretty good I guess. Not really sure how that benefits me but…thank you?"

"Oh ha ha…always the funny one aren't you Twelve!"

"I try."

Oh shit…this is getting _really_ intense now.

"I think I'll start by breaking your legs…" he began as he circled around me. "and then I'll whip out my handy dandy knife here…you see?"

"Oh, by _knife_ you meant that sharp, pointy thing that you're dangling in front of my face… yes I do in fact see it."

"Shut up! Just wait and see who will be having the last laugh when I cut up your pretty little face…"

Aw…he called me pretty.

"…then knock out each one of your teeth and wear them as a necklace…"

That is _so_ fucked up.

"…and finally chop off your head and impale it on my spear as my first kill!"

And now he officially ruined the mood.

"Uh…that sounds fine and all but isn't there someone else you would much rather be a psychotic killer with?"

"Okay, that's it!"

Great going Peeta! The best way to talk to the crazy guy with the big spear _is_ to make him madder so he wants to kill you.

"It ends NOW 12!"

I started backing up as he narrowed in on me and I swear I saw the words 'KILL PEETA' in his eyes. Well I guess this would be a good time to run.

Run. Run. Run. Faster. Dodge. Run. Run. Run. Run. Faster…Faster!…FASTER!

"AHHH!"

Silence.

Cautiously, I turned around, only to find the gross image of my attacker impaled on his own spear after he, I assumed, tripped.

I walked over to his lifeless body and noticed the dagger he was taunting me with earlier was strapped to his belt loops. Slowly I made my way over to the weapon which was conveniently located underneath his body on the side furthest away from me. Well, I do need a weapon…and it's not like it's stealing, he's dead… so there's nothing wrong with what I'm doing… right?

I guess I'll just reach over him here…oh god this is so gross…why is there so much blood… damn spear is in the way… his eyes are really creeping me out… yes! I got it.

Okay now just pull it out slowly…

"yuck, yuck, yuck, yuck, yuck, yuck… finally!"

That… was nasty.

So, today has been quite productive. I mean, I did win a battle to the death against another tribute… well deranged tribute… and granted he _did _fall on his own sword… but I'm still alive so I'll count that as a successful fight.

Let's hope tomorrow goes a little more smoothly.

(line break)

Day Three

_Water. _

_I need water!_

Okay Peeta…think! Where did you last see water? Where-oh-where?

The cornucopia!

That's it! I'll go to the cornucopia, take some water, and then be on my way. That should work…wait, no. The careers.

Shit! How'd I forget about them? Well I guess I can go at night, they won't expect anyone to do that.

_Maybe because it's stupid…_

Well whatever, I've made up my mind. It's either die of thirst or die trying…right?

Wait. Why did none of my options include me living? Let's redo that.

It's either die of thirst or die trying _or _live and succeed. Yep, that works.

Okay now…we wait!

(line break)

Target is in sight.

All I need to do now is pick my moment to make my move. Maybe I'll countdown…you know, to prepare myself.

10…

9…

8…

7…

6…

5…

This seems familiar…

4…

What could it be?

3…

Hmm…

2…

Okay Peeta, focus.

1…

And strike!

I'm running, running, running…

_Snap!_

Shit.

Alright, just keep calm and wait it out. No one is stirring, they're all still asleep, this is good.

That trainer was right; I do need to work on my stealth. I mean, that wasn't even a small twig. It wasn't even hidden under a leaf or anything…

But on to more important things: water.

Alright…I'm almost there. I just have to walk a little closer…reach out…and…yes! I got it!

Okay, now all I have to do is go back.

This actually worked out pretty well. I can't believe I pulled this off. Not going to lie… I really thought something bad was going to happen…

_Snap!_

Seriously! Was that the same fucking stick?

"Hey! Who's there?"

Well… fuck.

"I said… who's there!"

Well _I'm _not going to answer…if that's what he wants. But I should probably run.

"Whoa! Hey you! Stop Running! God damn it, why do they always run?"

Way to go Peeta! You try to get water and instead manage to fuck everything up…congrats.

Damn, the guy is gaining on me…well I might as well keep running; it can't really hurt at this point.

"I'm going to get you, and then I'm going to kill your sorry ass!"

_Come on Peeta, are you going to let him talk to you like that?_

"Yeah…well…you'll have to catch me first!"

_What?_

"I…know? That was the plan!"

"Well you're plan is stupid!"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck yourself!"

_Okay Peeta…shut up._

"Alright, that's it!"

_Damn. _

"Aaah-oughf… hey dude…could you get…off me?"

"Hm, should have guessed you were District 12."

"Hey! I take offense to that!"

"Yeah I know…that was the point!"

"Kind of a rude point…"

"Well I'm not a nice guy!"

"Yeah, I got that when you kneed me in the gut."

"Oh ha ha, funny boy. How about you get it from this!"

Oh shit he just pulled out a knife! Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. I'm going to die!

"Not so funny now, is it?"

"I never said it was funny when you kneed me in the gut!"

"Shut the fuck up! It was a retorcial question."

"Ha! I think you mean _rhetorical _big guy."

Great going Peeta, laugh at the guy who has a knife to your chest. This is deranged tribute all over again.

"We'll see who's laughing…when you're dead!"

"Could you have said anything more cliché?"

"That's it! Lights out funny boy!"

"Yeah, I guess-AAAAAH!"

Oh shit that hurts! I always imagined how this would feel but this is so much more painful than I ever thought it could be. Why is everything getting blurry? Why is it all white? Why can't I feel anything? Oh my god I can't feel anything! Oh no that's not true; I can still feel the pain of getting stabbed! I don't know what's going on. I'm so tired. I just want this torture to end.

Well fuck…this sucks.

_Boom!_

**Hey! You made it to the end of the first chapter! Thank you for wasting time out of your precious day to do that, I appreciate it. I just wanted to say that I do have a plan for this story, as it slightly follows one that was made already, but I still may be slow on the whole 'update' thing. With that being said I will always be trying my hardest to get chapters done as quickly as possible! I feel like that needed to be said since I'm a new writer, just so you guys understand that it is not because I am a mean person who wants to withhold this 'amazing' story from you. No, it is simply because I am a big promoter of the Procrastination Movement and am an avid victim of writers block…what an award winning combination. So basically, I just wanted to forewarn you about that instead of making a promise to update weekly and then breaking it, because that just isn't good behaviour. Now that all that crap is out of the way I just want to say that I am very excited for this story and I hope you all like it!**

**Till next time, MYC **


	2. Old Enemies Die Hard

**Technically, none of you can be mad at me for being late on this update because I did warn you about it! …it doesn't matter and you're still mad? …you hate me and have dropped this story? … you don't really care because I only posted one chapter? Let's just get on with it, shall we?**

**DISCLAIMER****  
I do not own the Hunger Games or any characters associated with the books/movie or anything associated with 21 Jump Street. **

DISTRICT 13  
Old Enemies Die Hard

"_Is he okay?_

"_Yeah, sure. He'll be fine."_

"_I don't know Mitch…he got hit pretty hard."_

"_Hey! I told you not to call me that!"_

"_Sorry Hamy."_

"_Oh for the love of God!"_

"Ugh…"

"_Shh… He's waking up!"_

Who the hell is talking? They're _so _annoying!

Wait a minute…how am I hearing this?

Aren't I supposed to be dead? I specifically remember that brute from District 2 stabbing me in the chest. What was his name again? It was something weird…like Crater…or Cocoon…or Potato…Wait! What the hell am I doing? I should be focused on why I seem to be hearing a conversation that I am pretty sure isn't just in my head.

Okay so after I got stabbed I heard a cannon go off and then I blacked out. Hold on…the cannon blasts to signify the death of a Tribute. How could I have heard mine if I was dead? Unless…it wasn't mine…who knows?

"_When will you explain it all to him?"_

"_When he wakes up."_

"_That's kind of a lot to deal with. Won't he be overwhelmed?"_

"_He was just in the fucking Hunger Games! I think he can deal."_

"_Whatever you say Mitch."_

"_I swear to god Finnick, I will KILL you."_

"Will you two shut the fuck up?" I groaned. I attempted to open my eyes but shut them tight right after due to the beam of light shining in my face.

"Sorry kid, Mitch can be whiny at times." The man, whom I assumed to be Finnick, told me.

_Finnick._ Why does that name sound so familiar?

I tried opening my eyes again, slowly this time, and found myself adjusting to the light. I looked up into the sea foam green eyes of the man named Finnick and immediately recognized the victor of the 65th Hunger Games.

"Finnick Odair?"

"The one and only." He smirked.

"What the hell is going on here?" I propped myself up against the headboard of the medical cot and looked at the two men in my room. "One minute I'm dead and the next I'm in some dark room with two pedophiles."

Finnick got up abruptly and motioned between himself and _Mitch. _"Whoa, whoa, whoa! We are not pedophiles."

"Well I'm a thirteen year old boy in a bed and you're two oldies who I can only hope were just _watching _me sleep." I looked between the two and raised my brow. "You do the math."

Finnick huffed. "Okay, First of all, and I can't speak for Grandpa here; I am not an _oldie_… I am only nineteen. Second of all, nothing perverted happened and you'll be inclined to know that we're trying to help you."

"Help me?" I questioned. This is just one confusing conversation. "How are you and… Haymitch? Haymitch Abernathy? Is that you?"

I looked over at the gruff man sitting in the corner and lone and behold there sat the only live victor of District 12.

"Yes, it's me, Haymitch Abernathy. The answer to the question 'who saved your sorry ass after you nearly died in that arena?'"

Oh yeah! I forgot I almost died. Wait…"I _almost _died? I thought I _did _die. The cannon blasted and everything."

"Well we were going to explain all that once you woke up but you jumped right on the molestation train and didn't give us the chance." He snapped.

"Oops." I blushed. "Yeah, sorry about that one. My mind just got stuck in the gutter, teenage boy, hormones, you know the drill."

"Boy do I!" Finnick confessed.

"Can it fish boy." Haymitch threatened. Then he turned to me. "Make yourself comfortable kid…and don't interrupt."

I pushed myself up fully and sat criss-cross applesauce, nodding at the man to begin talking.

"Alright where to begin..? First of all when a Tribute is killed they are sent here-"

"I thought they were sent to the Capitol?" I interjected.

"What did I just say about interrupting?" Haymitch growled.

"Sorry." I mumbled. I really should work on not cutting people off like that…

"So as I was saying-"

"Wait a minute! Does that mean we're in the Capitol?" _Shut up Peeta!_

"No!" Haymitch snapped. "When a Tribute dies in the Games they are sent _here_, to District 13-"

"District 13? I thought it was bombed." _Seriously Peeta, shut the fuck up!_

Haymitch was livid. "Keep your mouth shut or I'll sew it that way!"

"Great," Finnick picked at some dirt under his nails. "Now you've got him all riled up."

"Sorry dude." I smiled sheepishly at him and hoped that would get me out of his wrath ray. Fortunately, it did the trick.

"You are going to be a handful aren't you?"

I brought my hand to my lips and mimicked zipping them shut and finally threw the key away and shook my head.

"Blondie learns quickly," Finnick approved. "Plus he's got some sass!"

I nodded at Haymitch cheekily. He just sighed.

"Okay, so when a Tribute dies they are sent here, to District 13 to fix up, you know, if they weren't mangled too badly in the arena. For the families of those who were they receive the clothes that their loved one was wearing and anything on them at the time. Once we fix them up, we send them back to the Capitol who then sends them to their families. Questions?"

"Why doesn't the Capitol just do it?" I asked.

"It's dirty work." Finnick replied.

"Okay, so what about me then?"

"That's a difficult situation." Haymitch began. "As you know, the Capitol embedded a tracker in your arm to keep _track _of you at all times in the arena. However, it also doubles as a heart rate monitor to detect your pulse. Once your pulse is out so are you."

"So are you saying my heart stopped?" I asked.

"Well," Haymitch began. "No actually. The stab that you received in the arena didn't quite kill you."

_What the FUCK! I didn't die? Then how in the hell…_

Haymitch, sensing my confusion jumped in to save the day. "This actually happens more than you think. When that Tribute from District 2 stabbed you he didn't kill you…"

"What!?" I was shocked.

_I specifically remember that fucker chasing me down and stabbing me in the heart. I mean, he did stab me in the heart…right?_

I looked down to me chest and pulled the neckline of the white t-shirt away and found smooth skin, not a blemish in sight.

_What the fuck?_

"Okay, what's going on here?" I looked up at the two men in front of me. "I see no scar and my mind is still thoroughly shitting bricks."

Finnick just laughed at me and crossed over the room to get a drink from the fountain. "We told you we fix the dead Tributes up; make them look all pretty for their families."

"So you got rid of my scar, just like that?" I scoffed. _Is this guy for real?_

"Yes. The capitol has the technology to do so and they sent it to us to do their dirty work." Finnick gulped down the rest of his water then threw the Styrofoam cup into the trash can.

"Alright, so let me get this straight. I was stabbed by that brute…yes?"

"Yes." Haymitch and Finnick replied in unision.

"And the stab wasn't fatal?"

"No."

"But it seemed fatal and I was sent here?"

"Exactly."

"Okay, this is the part where I say 'What the fuck?'"

Haymitch sighed and walked over to me. "The stab was enough to slow your heart rate enough to a point where your tracker announced you dead."

"How is that possible, how could I have survived a stab wound to the heart?"

"Well, it had something to do with the angle…what did Dr. Aurelius say?" Haymitch looked to Finnick who shrugged his shoulders.

"Uh…force of the blade…something about an artery…I think…"

"Yeah!" Haymitch jumped up. "The femoral artery I'm pretty sure…"

"…No, no…that's in the thigh..."

"Are you shitting me?" I shouted. "Do you seriously not know how the fuck I'm alive?"

"Uh…" Finnick tapped his chin thoughtfully. "No. Not really."

"How dumb are you two?" I snapped.

"Hey! Shut it kid!" Haymitch growled.

Finnick defended his honour. "Yeah! That doctor said a lot of medical crap and you're lucky to be sitting there and hearing it."

"Well I'm actually not hearing it-"

"SHUT UP!" Haymitch growled. "You sir need to know when to zip you lip!"

_Don't I know it. Damn good for nothing mouth. _

"Sorry." I muttered.

"So to sum up," Finnick stood up and began pacing back and forth. "You got stabbed in the arena, you did not die but your tracker announced you dead, you were sent here to District 13 to get fixed up, and now we're explaining this all to you."

"Huh." I nodded. _I mean, it's quite simple really. It does make some sense. You know…I'm pretty badass. I survived a fucking stab wound! Well, there's no scar to prove it but I have at least two guys who can vouch for me…I'm sure it's on TV somewhere in the Capitol…they record everything in those damn Games. Hold on…_

"Are the Games still on?" I asked.

"Yes," Haymitch answered. "There in the final days though…only three Tributes left."

"My money's on District 4." Finnick piped up.

Haymitch scoffed. "Says the Victor from District 4."

Finnick just shrugged. "What can I say, kids good with a spear."

While Haymitch and Finnick continued bickering over the remaining tributes I decided to make my presence known. "Excuse me," I cleared my throat, "who are the remaining Tributes exactly?"

"Oh, uh…" Finnick thought it over. "The boy from District 4, the girl from one, and the guy from seven…I think?"

"Really? District seven? He couldn't even hold a sword!" I shouted. "Pretty embarrassing to lose to him."

"He's just hiding out in some ditch," Finnick explained. "Not that interesting."

_Yeah, I guess that's kind of lame. Then again he's alive and I'm…well I'm alive too so…how hard can it be? Hold on…that means that idiot from two is dead!_

"Hey Mitch!" I shouted.

Haymitch fumed at me then went in to attack mode on Finnick. "See what your blabbering caused! Now you've got him saying it!"

Finnick just laughed while wiping a tear from his eye. "I like you," he said to me. "And you," he gestured to Haymitch, "have this hilarious vein above your eye that just…POPS…when you're angry…it's hilarious."

"Shut up merman," Haymitch growled, then turned to me. "What did you want?"

"Oh right…is that uh Tribute from two dead then?"

Haymitch looked at me with malice and an evil smirk spread on his face.

_Shit. _

"Oh I'm going to enjoy this." He laughed.

"What's going on?" I looked to Finnick to answer and he just gave me and innocent smile.

"You know, I kind of owe him this one. And I'm pretty excited to see where this will go." He answered.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Cato had a malfunctioning Tracker." Haymitch began. "At some point in the game a Tribute knocked him off a cliff and he fell unconscious. The hit reset his Tracker causing the same phenomena you experienced, a fake death."

_I swear to god if he is insinuating what I think he is…_

"You're merry friend Cato is here right now…in District 13."

_Fuck me…_

"And you're going to be spending a lot of time with him."

_Say what?_

"Didn't you ever wonder what was going to happen to you now that you're here?" Haymitch asked me.

"I thought I was…well…shit. Well what's happening then?"

Haymitch laughed at me and sat in the stool on the side wall.

"You, my thorn in my side, are going to begin training."

"Training for what?"

_What the fuck is going on?_

"The Rebellion." Haymitch's smile grew wider as he said, "and you're partner in crime will be your lovely friend Cato."

_You've got to be fucking me!_

I shot out of bed and attempted to strangle the Victor of 12. "You've got to be fucking kidding me! I'm not going anywhere near that pig-headed fucker you smelly bastard!"

Meanwhile Finnick just sat back and watched the show. "Boom…and shit hits the fan."

**YEEHAW! Two chappies! Stay tuned for updates annually, so I'll see you next September!**

**Ha…jokes! **

**But seriously, not really. **


End file.
